James Douglas Stevenson




A Lamb of my wool

Woolen lamb of many colours

that wee jamie wrapped in thee,

having more wool than mother

brought upon a touch of jealousy.


Other lambs, thought it all so funny

to see a lamb wearing all that wool

I have no care looking awe so rare

to humans, I am incredibly so cool.


I never want to be one`s lamb-chop

doused in ketchup, pepper or  salted

don`t stew me with fresh vegetables

then re-name me a home-made balti.


Leave me to roam where lambs feel at home

on a grassy hillside amongst scottish heather,

with plenty of green grass to chew everyday

never complaining about cold drizzy weather.


Because I wear a coat of different colours

which was lovingly wrapped around me,

by some strange, lonesome mountain boy,

speaking in languages understood by a tree.


Bah-Bah, spoke the voice of the black-sheep

the one who really stood out with no friends,

let jamie be the leader, you choose to follow

where our journey`s carry on without any end.







James Douglas Stevenson 2005





      From overseas it found a way
      into my body, my lungs decay
      each labouring breath I wheeze
      its so tight my chest joins knees
      one can never dream of sleep
      by counting numbers or sheep
      during the day, I find some way
      to doze off and on, here or there
      slumbering on sofa or any chairs
      staying awake, imaginary friends
      entertain both my family & friends
      whilst I rest my weary old head
      from inside my green garden shed
      where I lead these troubles away
      until one day I can fight this decay
      to reverse the badness into good
      I really would, if faith says; "I could.

      If I only had time!




      Times gone by, leave something new

      few say goodbye, choosing farewell,

      nothing is final, there is ink on my nib

      following tradition by the flick of a pen

      or signing digitally off by pressing send

      computer technology instantly recieved

      how microsoft, want it to be percieved

      "yes I`ll miss my little electronic buddy,

      without internet access how can I study

      or up-load my pieces of dandelion fluff

      picking tulip in progress who had enough

      of flowers from Holland looking yellow

      tall of stalk, with intruder feeding freely

      off my back which attracts more flease

      so if you please, let us all leave quietly a

      pleasuredome for writers I rate so highly

      my long weekend, may one day return

      when once again, my engine is burning.


      Thanks for the the cyber coffee & biscuit

      pleasures all mine to those who risked it.








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